Tiruppāvai — Pāśuram 14
உங்கள் புழக்கடைத் தோட்டத்து வாவியுள்
செங்கழுனீர் வாய் நெகிழ்ந்து ஆம்பல் வாய் கூம்பின காண்
Uṅgaḷ puzhakkaḍai tōṭṭattu vāviyuḷ
Ceṅkaḻunīr vāy neḷiḻndu āmbal vāy kūmbina kāṇ
In this pāśuram, Āṇḍāḷ comes with her sakhis to wake a sakhi who had promised to rise early and wake the others—but has now fallen asleep herself.
The call begins gently, not with accusation, but with observation.
They point to the world outside her house. In the pond in her backyard, red lotuses have opened, while blue lilies have folded themselves shut. Nature has already marked the hour. One flower opens to the sun; another withdraws. Dawn has clearly arrived.
They then point beyond the garden. Ascetics, dressed simply, are already on their way to the temples to begin their morning worship. The day has moved forward not only in nature, but also in human life and ritual.
Finally, they remind her of her own words. She had said she would wake them first. Her speech had carried promise and confidence. Now they ask her to rise—not harshly, but firmly—because words once spoken carry responsibility.
The sakhi is addressed affectionately, even playfully. She is called one without hesitation, one gifted with speech. But that gift, the pāśuram suggests, must be used truthfully and at the right time. Sweet speech is not meant to delay others—it is meant to lead.
The call ends by turning all attention to the Lord they have come to sing about:
the one who holds the conch and the discus,
the one with wide, lotus-like eyes.
Pāśuram 14 quietly brings together three reminders: the discipline of nature,
the discipline of daily worship,
and the discipline of one’s own word.
It tells us that devotion is not only about feeling, but also about attentiveness—to time, to others, and to what we have promised.
Āṇḍāḷ Thiruvadigalai Śaraṇam
No comments:
Post a Comment